Overheard
by MrsTater
Summary: Sirius tries to play matchmaker for an ambivalent Remus and Tonks, but when everyone keeps overhearing everyone else's conversations, things get a little complicated as shapeshifters prove to be anything but predictable... Updated Sept 3, 2007
1. Part One: Suspension Of Disbelief

_Originally written for the April RT Ficathon at LiveJournal, this fic is set during the summer between **Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire** and **Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix**. _

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**Part One: Suspension of Disbelief**

"I dreamed he took me for a date."

Tonks' voice filters out the drawing room door, which Lupin left ajar when he interrupted the game of Exploding Snap to make tea. He hesitates outside, not knowing whether to announce his return or to allow her a few minutes' conversation with Sirius. Before he can make up his mind, he catches Sirius' reply.

"Dreaming about him now." The lilt in Sirius' voice makes Lupin imagine his mate's twinkling grey eyes and smirk. "This is getting serious."

"I fancy him a lot." Tonks admits. "Quite a lot."

Lupin's heart constricts at her tone of mingled girlish hope and wistfulness. He knows he should not eavesdrop on this intensely private revelation – which Tonks chose _not _to mention in front of him – but curiosity roots him to the floor. It will be torture to hear another wizard's name on her lips, but if Lupin is to wish her joy, he will only be able to do so if he has time to prepare, to resign himself.

"And how was it to go on a date with him?" Sirius asks.

"Exactly like I know it would be," says Tonks dreamily. "Delightful and fun. He was a complete gentleman, and he made me laugh."

The way she has not yet named her romantic interest drives Lupin mad; his imagination inserts himself into Tonks' dream. He would be that to Tonks – or he would try. He can be a gentleman, and he has made her laugh many times. Delightful and fun, however, are other stories…

"How can he not see how much I fancy him?" Tonks asks. "I'm hardly subtle."

Sirius chuckles. "If you really want him, you may just have to ask _him _for a date."

A brief pause, then Tonks asks tentatively, "Would he go for that?"

In the process of asking himself how _he _would respond if Nymphadora Tonks asked him for a date (as if she would do such a thing), he misses Sirius' reply. No matter; no wizard in his right mind would turn down a date with a brilliant, gorgeous Auror.

"I'm going to the loo," Tonks says, voice suddenly clearer, and…

…the drawing room door swings inward and Lupin finds himself face-to-face with her. Tonks' face goes red as Weasley hair, she mumbles "wotcher," then brushes past him.

Merlin – she knows he overheard.

And so does Sirius; it is clear from his smirk as Lupin enters the room. "Got all that, did you, Moony?"

Lupin avoids eye contact as he sets the tea tray on the coffee table. "All but the lucky bloke's name."

"You're joking."

"It was ridiculous of me to eavesdrop." Lupin sinks onto the settee.

"You don't understand. I mean – you've really _no_ idea who Tonks fancies?"

"No."

He can't stop himself from imagining a date with Tonks. A candlelight dinner. Her dark eyes dancing with laughter. Her arm linked with his. Her lips...

Lupin says, "I think I prefer to remain ignorant."

"Even if you're the lucky bloke?"

"Padfoot—"

"She fancies you quite a lot – her exact words."

"I heard her exact words." Lupin deliberately pours a cup of tea. "They do not apply to me."

"You don't believe me," says Sirius incredulously.

"Why would I?"

Sirius jumps to his feet. "Because my little cousin could be the best thing that's ever happened to you."

She _would_ be. "Nymphadora Tonks won't happen to me."

"She wants to."

"Please." Lupin's voice is hoarse. He sips his tea, but it doesn't help. His voice remains raspy when he says, "Don't give me false hope."

"What's false about the fact that she she's all smiles whenever you're around? She always picks you out of a crowd."

"She's a nice girl. She smiles at everyone."

Shaking his head, muttering about what a git Lupin is, Sirius stretches out on the rug, arms akimbo under his head. "What _would _you do if she asked you for a date? I mean, after you picked your bleeding jaw up off the floor."

Tonks returns, sparing Lupin the agony of answering. She is quiet and awkward as they resume their game – either angry at Lupin for eavesdropping, or mortified from overhearing _his_ conversation – and she leaves before they finish.

"See?" says Lupin. "She doesn't fancy me."

Sirius scowls on his way out of the drawing room. "Why in bloody hell would she?"


	2. Part Two: Progress

**Part Two: Progress**

"I don't think she's angry at me anymore."

Angry? Tonks stops midway down the basement stairs. Remus thinks she's been _angry _at him? Can he recognise any emotions at all?

"She's not." Sirius' voice echoes in the kitchen. "But then, I never thought she was to begin with."

He's so smug, Tonks can just picture his smirk – and she realises she's eavesdropping on her cousin and friend-she-fancies. They think she's left twelve Grimmauld, but halfway out the door she remembered she needs to ask Remus about the guard duty schedule, so she's back. She should give them privacy, and owl him from her flat – but Remus' voice transfixes her.

"You also think she fancies me," he says in a measured tone.

"Know," Sirius corrects. "I _know _she fancies you."

She feels her cheeks grow red, even though she's been contemplating coming right out and telling Remus she fancies him. She knows he fancies her – she's seen it in his eyes, felt it in his inadvertent flirtation.

"Uncomfortable then," says Remus. "She knows I eavesdropped and heard things I shouldn't, and now she's not certain how to act around me."

Tonks bits her lip to keep from saying, _Bollocks_. Well – it's not entirely. He's got the right emotion, at least, even if it did take him two guesses.

"Put yourself in her place, Remus," says Sirius. "If you heard her say there was no chance you'd ever fancy her, would it make you uncomfortable?"

That was _exactly _the case. She'd done some eavesdropping of her own that night, and Remus' poor opinion of himself had surprised and deflated her.

Sirius' question is a good one. Why hasn't Remus answered? She leans forward to hear better, but one foot slides off the step. Thank Merlin for sharp reflexes; she shoots out a hand and catches herself on the handrail. The stair below creaks when she plants a foot on it, and her breath hitches as she anticipates getting caught. But the silence persists, and Tonks continues to hold her breath. Does Remus' lack of answer mean he lacks an argument? Has Sirius finally got through to the daft prat?

"Yes," says Remus at last. "I would."

Tonks' heart leaps, but only to be pushed down again when Remus adds, "But it's not the same."

"Dare I ask how?" Sirius asks in a tone that makes Tonks picture his head falling back as he rubs his hands over his face.

"She's young and beautiful and intelligent—"

Her internal organs do Wronksky Feints to hear Remus say those things about her, and she nods as Sirius interjects, "You're intelligent, and you're my age, which is _not _old."

"Tonks is a lovely girl," Remus continues, ignoring Sirius. He's very good at that, and most of the time Tonks can't blame him, but she wishes he wouldn't now. "What bloke _wouldn't _fancy her?"

Again, Tonks stifles an interjection that she appreciates him thinking her such a catch, but she doesn't _want_ any blokes but him to fancy her, and _he's_ certainly the only one she wants to take her for a date.

"Where does this self-deprecating thing come from?" Sirius asks. "You've gone out with loads of girls."

This actually comes to Tonks as quite a surprise; she's assumed inexperience lies behind Remus' failure to act.

"Because you and James made me," says Remus.

Tonks stifles a giggle – now _this_ is in character. Her heart does little flip-flops at the image of shy, teenaged Remus being dragged up to a girl by Sirius and James Potter and prodded to ask her out. Maybe if Remus won't be talked around, she'll tell Sirius to revert to adolescent tactics.

"Girls always liked you," Sirius insists. "You were the charming, kind, smart prefect who sometimes got detentions with his cool friends and whom everyone thought skived class at least once a month. You were mysterious."

Remus snorts. "The mystery was the problem. Have you forgotten _every _relationship ended because I couldn't work up the nerve to tell a girl I was a werewolf?"

Tonks feels a pang of sadness for him – but only for a moment because she's inwardly screaming through clenched teeth, _I already know!_

"Tonks already knows!" cries Sirius.

A crackly voice belonging to neither wizard mutters, "Knows he's a filthy, half-bred Dark Creature besmirching Mistress' noble house."

"KREACHER!" Sirius roars, followed by a clatter Tonks can only assume is his chair falling over as he springs from it. "OUT! GO CLEAN MISTRESS' VILE HOUSE!"

The house elf slinks out of the kitchen, and Tonks contemplates Disapparating because she's surely revealed now. But Sirius doesn't come out, and apparently neither he nor Remus hears or suspects Kreacher refers to her when he grumbles, "Blood traitor shames Mistress by fancying the filthy werewolf."

It's all Tonks can do not to stick out her foot and trip the little beast.

"Y'know, Moony," Sirius drawls, "you're s'posed to be saying, 'Godric Gryffindor, Padfoot, this is the perfect arrangement for me, fancying a girl who already knows I'm a werewolf and fancies me back.'"

Remus, of course, says nothing of the sort. He says nothing at all.

Her cousin says in a resigned voice "At least you're not still insisting you're not the bloke she fancies. That's progress."

"All those times you pushed me to ask a girl for a date," says Remus, "you never were wrong about her fancying me."

"Merlin, you took a long time to remember that," says Sirius. "So, will you give it a chance? She only wants a date, not a proposal."

Tonks can't help but flush as she automatically envisions Remus down on one knee nervously making a very careful, formal, touching offer of marriage. She banishes the image by picturing them on a picnic instead, laughing…kissing…

"And that brings us to my problem no amount of talking will resolve," says Remus gloomily. "My very empty vault at Gring—Ow! Padfoot!"

Tonks blinks. The sound proceeding the "ow" sounded very much like a slap on the back of the head. She turns and ascends the stairs, deciding to owl Remus her question.

There's a chance the blow to his head knocked some sense into him, and he'll reply asking her for a date.


	3. Part Three: Cross Words

**Part Three: Cross Words**

"It's over, then."

Tonks' flat tone freezes Sirius outside the drawing room. Over? How in bloody hell can it be over? Remus hasn't even taken her for a date. Has the prat gone and buggered it up already? It would be like him to sabotage a potential romance with stupid notions of being noble.

"Not necessarily," Remus replies mildly. "One can win without one's queen, but it does help if one has one's knights and bishops."

A game of chess – thank Merlin. Sirius heaves a sigh, but while relief washes over him, his perturbation at his mate doesn't ebb. Remus' words are polite, but he's trying not to sound smug. He's never been a _bad_ winner precisely, but victory does go to his head, and it's always hard to lose to him. Tonks has a strong competitive streak, and Moony's not helping himself by annoying the girl.

Tucking his _Evening Prophet_ under his arm, Sirius shoves his hands into his pockets and strides into the room.

"If one plays chess with a lady one fancies," he mimics, "one ought to let the lady win. Or at least one oughtn't patronise her."

His cleverness is rewarded with the sight of Remus' ears going red, but Sirius is aware that the dropped eye contact has broken the sexual tension – and Tonks looks none too pleased.

Pulling a face, she says, "Sod off, Sirius."

"I only came for your help," Sirius retorts. "Who's the Weird Sisters' bagpiper?"

"Are you trying to solve the _Prophet _crossword again?" Remus asks, cocking an eyebrow.

"I've almost finished!" says Sirius proudly and irritably at once. They can't begrudge him a little help; it's not his fault he hasn't caught up on twelve years of pop culture.

"I'm not helping you," says Tonks. "You're a git. Now sod off."

In spite of the obscene hand gesture Sirius makes, the pair laughs him out of he drawing room.

But just as Sirius is mounting the stairs, Tonks' laughter stops abruptly. Her bright voice filters out to the corridor: "Actually, if one asks a lady for a date after one has trounced her at chess, one goes far in soothing her feelings."

"Does one?" Remus says absently.

Avoiding the creaky floorboard next to the drawing room door, Sirius splays against the wall and turns his head so he can hear the conversation to follow. He's been privy to many occasions of Remus asking girls for dates. How will it go this time? Will he keep his chess game cool and be smooth? Or will he fumble through it? Sirius barely restrains a laugh as he imagines Remus becoming so distressed and distracted with anticipation that he botches the match he's clinched.

Silent minutes tick by, and not a word passes between Remus and Tonks except her curses when he captures more of her pieces. Sirius bites his tongue to keep from shouting, "Get on with it, Moony!" He unfolds his newspaper and stares hard at the almost-completed crossword, wiling himself to recall the bagpiper's name, which he knows he's heard or read. Maybe the Weird Sisters are featured today. He flips through the _Prophet_.

"Checkmate," says Remus.

"What an upset," comes Tonks' sarcastic reply, but she adds sincerely, "Well played, Remus. I bet you could beat Ron."

Sirius wills Remus to think like _him _and take advantage of Tonks' bit of flattery. He ought to say, "I'd rather play you, luv, after I take you for dinner." Sirius cringes. Merlin's balls, he's out of practice.

"No one beats Ron," says Remus. "Shall we play again?"

"I've a report to write for Scrimgeour," Tonks replies. "Better get home and write."

_Ask her for a rain check, Moony,_ Sirius silently pleads as he hears the telltale sounds of the chess set being put away. _Rain check, rain check. _

"Would you like…?" Remus begins.

"Yes?" Tonks asks so eagerly that Sirius can envision her face lighting up. She's such a cute girl. Remus had better appreciate what a lucky bloke he is and ask her for a date.

"If you want…" Remus trails off again.

Sirius chokes back a laugh. He's glad it's going this way. Remus always has been such an entertaining fumbler.

"If you would like," Remus tries for the third time, "you could owl me your report, and I would be happy to proofread it."

"Oh." The deflation in Tonks' voice matches the sinking feeling in Sirius' chest. She says, "I'll be up all night and probably won't finish till the last minute. Thanks, though."

She's trying valiantly but failing miserably at sounding grateful. Sirius is so busy feeling sorry for her and trying to recall if Remus was ever this moronic about a girl, that he's caught unawares when they emerge from the drawing room. The look Tonks shoots him as she whips out her wand makes Sirius momentarily fear the hexing off of particular body parts. Instead, she vanishes his _Evening Prophet_.

"Oy!" Sirius cries. "I was almost finished with the crossword!"

"The bagpiper's called Gideon Crumb." Tonks bids Remus a stiff good night, then, without further word to Sirius, quits twelve Grimmauld.

"I'll proofread?" Sirius says when she's gone. "That's your line, Moony?"

"Did it ever occur to you, Padfoot," says Remus tolerantly, "that I would know you were eavesdropping?"

"Can you blame me for wanting to hear? I live vicariously these days."

A sympathetic look flickers across Remus' features, but he hardens again, folding his arms across his chest. "Can you blame _me_ for not wanting her to think I was only asking because you put me up to it? We are not teenagers anymore. I've a lot to consider before leaping into things with girls."

Sirius gapes. "You really almost asked, then?"

Remus turns and mounts the staircase.

Dogging him, Sirius says, "Why'd you let me stop you? Didn't you notice how disappointed she was?"

Alighting at the second floor, Remus again doesn't answer, but rounds the corner to his bedroom.

"Moony?" Sirius persists. "Why'd you let her leave angry? Are you pissed at me?"

Hand on the doorknob, Remus turns to him. "If Tonks does go out with me, she inevitably will be disappointed. Better now than later. I am rather pissed at you, but I suppose I should be glad you stopped me from doing something stupid."

"Well I'm pissed at _you_!"

"Are you?"

Sirius wants to tell Remus the truth, that he doesn't like this self-deprecation any more than Tonks does, but instead he says, "You deprived me of all my entertainment. You didn't ask her out, and then she took it out on me by vanishing my crossword."

Remus takes out his wand as he opens the door. "_Accio Prophet._" He holds the newspaper out to Sirius. "Have mine. You know the bagpiper's name now."

Sirius replies with his hand, and this time as he stalks away, Remus does not laugh.


	4. Part Four: The Waiting

**Part Four: The Waiting**

"You still haven't got round to asking her for a date?"

Sirius' voice drifts out the drawing room door, which stands slightly ajar, as Tonks approaches it. For Merlin's sake! How does she always manage to walk up on Sirius and Remus talking about her? She doesn't even live here. They know she's coming tonight; when she arrived Molly told her the men were waiting for her in the drawing room. Sirius is probably just trying to nudge Remus along, plant the idea so that it's fresh in his mind before he sees Tonks. Or maybe Sirius _wants_ her to overhear. She _has _gleaned valuable information about Remus' feelings by eavesdropping.

"What are you waiting for?" Sirius asks when Remus doesn't answer.

It's the question Tonks is dying to have answered. She presses her ear to the drawing room door and holds her breath so as not to miss Remus' quiet voice.

"The timing is poor," he says.

"It's not going to get any better, mate. We're at the beginning of a bleeding war."

"Precisely."

"That's your problem, Moony," says Sirius tolerantly. "You try to make everything precise, and everything's _not_ precise."

_Precisely_, Tonks wants to shout. She'd give anything right now to see Remus' face, and even peeks through the crack between the French door. But the men sit in wing-backed chairs facing the fire, and all she can see are their feet and the very tops of their heads.

"You've got to take advantage of these things when the opportunities present themselves," Sirius continues. He pauses briefly, then adds, with a melancholy note in his voice, "Like James and Lily."

Tonks pictures his grey eyes staring vacantly into the fire as he sinks back in his chair; Remus' greying hair falls in his face as he bows his head reverently. Her heart lodges in her throat as she considers all these two men have suffered and lost, and some of her questions about Remus' reluctance to act on his feelings are answered. But amid the pain, her heart beats fiercely at their courage. They've endured and will fight again.

_But what good's fighting, Remus, _she silently asks,_ if you won't live?_

"James—" Remus begins hoarsely, but Sirius cuts him off.

"—wasn't thirteen years older than Lily, he'd a vault full of gold, and he hadn't a furry little problem."

"I wish I could thank you for finally looking at this from my point of view," says Remus dryly, "but I've a distinct impression you are not at all."

Tonks startles at Sirius' barking laugh, but she's glad for his volume because she can't stifle a giggle of her own. Remus' deadpan humour is one of his best qualities, not only because he is amusing, but because he is youthful when he jokes. The lines fade away, and his eyes are lively and beautiful. And his wry half-grin makes Tonks want to kiss him. Even now, imagining his face, she's got the urge.

"If Lily were shallow," says Sirius, thoughtful once more, "she'd have gone out with James the first time he asked. Tell me my cousin isn't the _least_ shallow girl you've met – even if she has got daft hair."

"I like her hair," Remus replies, so softly that Tonks just catches it. She feels she might just be a bit shallow, because she goes all fluttery inside.

The floorboards in the drawing room creak, and Remus head and shoulders appear above the chair. Much as she wants to look at him, she's afraid of being caught eavesdropping and ducks beyond the crack.

"What great point are trying to make, Padfoot?"

"Your situation's not going to change. Maybe the money'll be better someday. That's one thing we're fighting for."

As if she's in the room with them, participating in this conversation, Tonks nods her agreement. She wants to rid the Wizarding world of Voldemort, Death Eaters, and Dolores Umbridge.

"My great point, Moony," says Sirius, floorboards groaning as he too stands, "is that you deserve a bit of happiness _now_."

Not since Tonks met Sirius has she heard him sound as sincere and kind as he does now. She can't resist a glimpse into the room, and she sees Sirius with a firm hand on Remus' shoulder, one of those rare, wonderful moments of masculine affection and support. Her heart quickens again as, for the first time, she's truly proud to own a Black other than her mum as kin. He's absolutely right. God, Remus _does _deserve happiness, and Tonks wants to give it to him. She can give it to him. Sirius believes she can.

_Just say the word, Remus, and I'll burst through this door—_

"I think," says Remus slowly, "I am waiting for her."


	5. Part Five: Playing Chicken

**Playing Chicken**

"So Remus is waiting for me t'make the first move."

Tonks' voice, low and tired-sounding, stops Remus at the top of the kitchen stairs. She's still here? A glance at the grandfather clock across from Mrs. Black's portrait reveals it's gone midnight. Tonks was supposed to have been headed out when he turned in an hour ago. Sirius must have convinced her to stay for a drink. Which is why Remus is up now – not for Firewhiskey, but for something soothing. Cocoa, or warm milk. Between aching joints and a racing mind, he's lain in bed for the past hour tossing and turning and unable to doze.

"Ah," Sirius replies in the tone usually accompanied by waggling eyebrows, "so you _did_ overhear that?"

Remus sucks in his breath through clenched teeth and clutches the handrail as he feels his knees buckle. Tonks heard him say he's waiting for her. Merlin. Waiting for her to "make the first move" is not what he meant. Not precisely. Well – perhaps. Mainly he was waxing melodramatic and mooning over her. Merlin.

"I knew you arranged it," Tonks says, with a mixture of amusement and annoyance.

"What d'you expect? The pair of you aren't moving fast enough for me."

Sirius set him up? Took the sentimental path and touched all Remus' deepest issues in the hope that Tonks would overhear and give Sirius entertainment? Did he mean any of it at all? Does he care about his mate's happiness? Or is this just a game?

"Kreacher can't sleep," moans the house-elf from some corner of the kitchen. "Not with his blood traitor master and the half-bred shape-shifter talking about the filthy Dark Creature."

"Shut up, Kreacher," says Sirius. "I _am_ your master, and I'll stay up and have a drink and a chat in my own bloody kitchen if I like."

Vexation ebbs at the reminder that Sirius is under the influence. His wit always sharpens, and his speech becomes increasingly self-centred whenever he is drinking. Of course Sirius meant all the things he said earlier. Whenever he brings James into something, every word is sincere.

Remus' hand slips on the banister as his palms begin to sweat. Nymphadora Tonks actually fancies him back – and wants to do something about it. He stands there in the dark, wearing a dressing gown and slippers, feeling very thirsty, and grins idiotically.

"Really, Cos," says Sirius, "get past the foreplay."

The remark sends Tonks into a paroxysm of coughs. Remus hears, through ears flame hot with embarrassment, Sirius pounding her back.

When the fit passes, her voice remains so small and pinched that he barely catches her asking, "Were you into this vicarious dating when you and Remus were at Hogwarts?"

"Other way 'round," Sirius drawls. 

Remus smirks. All three of the Marauders – even James – dated vicariously through Sirius a good deal of their time in school. 

"Far as I know," Sirius continues, "Remus' entire sex life—"

"I really don't need you to finish that sentence," Tonks hastily interrupts.

Head in his hands, Remus blesses her for allowing him a shred of dignity, even though Padfoot, Prince of Prats, has painted him to be wholly inexperienced. Not that Remus is particularly practised, and not that Tonks wants to know about his past romantic entanglements – which, now that he thinks of it, did not involve much tangling. He never could make anything last long enough to get too tangled.

More than just his ears are flushed now. Why is he standing here subjecting himself to this?

"So," says Sirius, fingers drumming on the table, "why aren't you making your move?"

_That_ is why. He's got to know what she's thinking. That's why he's up now, in need of warm milk or cocoa, because he cannot sleep for wondering what is to come of this.

"Because," Tonks replies slowly, "Remus went to bed."

"Best place t'make a move." 

Tonks snorts. "You've had too much too drink."

Face still in his hands, Remus smiles slightly. No, Nymphadora dear, Sirius would have said that if he didn't have a drop of liquor in him.

"Give that back!" Sirius barks, and Remus guesses Tonks snatched the Firewhiskey. 

"_Evanesco_," says Tonks.

"You _didn't_," Sirius whimpers. 

Remus' lungs burn, and he thinks his eardrums might burst with the force of restrained laughter. Only Tonks would have the brass to vanish Sirius' drink.

"Considering my sex life's completely vicarious," she says, rather huffy at first, but then with self-consciousness creeping in, "that would be the worst place for me to make a move."

After a brief pause, Sirius says, "You're _joking_."

"I'm serious."

"_I'm_ Sirius." 

Oh dear God – still making that joke? Anything to draw attention to himself. 

"And that's impossible," Sirius adds. "_You_, with a completely vicarious sex life? I don't believe it."

Neither does Remus. Not because Tonks is the loose type, by any means. She is simply wonderful. 

"Why?" she says, "because a Metamorphmagus is every man's fantasy?"

The edge of bitterness in her voice, which is completely alien to her, gives Remus a pang. Surely that cannot be how it is for her? Why in Merlin's name would anyone want her to be anything but the pink haired pixie?

"The shape-shifting freak keeps Kreacher from his sleep," moaned the house-elf. 

"Of course I don't mean it like that," says Sirius, not wholly convincingly. 

"S'okay," says Tonks in a tone that sounds anything but. "I'm used to it. S'why I haven't had a boyfriend since Hogwarts."

That can't be true. She's not had a real relationship? Are the wizards her age blind? Do her talents and intelligence and kindness and charm not make her heart-shaped face and dark eyes even more beautiful than they are? That can't be what she means. Auror training is rigorous and time consuming. She likely has not had time to date. And now she fills her spare moments with Order duties.

A lump forms in his throat, and Remus swallows painfully. Has her interest in him developed simply because she sees more of him than other men?

"I don't want to be a fantasy," she says. "I want to be _real_."

"Well," says Sirius conspiratorially, and rather kindly, "Remus informs me he likes your hair. But then, you overheard that." He laughs low. "Look at you, blushing like a schoolgirl. You're _giddy_."

"Shut up," she says, giggling. Giddy, indeed. Remus' only regret about her overhearing _that_ is not getting to see this reaction Sirius obviously finds cute. She _is_ the most adorable girl…

"So you don't go out with the blokes who ask—?" Sirius interrupts himself with a yawn.

"Now'n then," says Tonks, "but second dates're rare."

"They don't _all_ go for you just because you can morph?"

"Some of them I just don't fancy enough to bother with."

"What about the ones you _do_ fancy? D'you ever ask _them_ for dates?"

"I haven't fancied anyone in a while—"

"But if you did?"

"God no!" She says it as though someone just offered her a flobberworm for a pet. "I'm so awkward."

Remus feels her pain, but cannot help but smile a little. Too often at Hogwarts he used the same excuse. Sirius never let him get away with it. Now he knows Remus' set in his ways, but he will never let Tonks get away with it. Especially because she is _not_ awkward, at least not around them.

"You haven't been awkward around Remus once since you met him," says Sirius, as though reading Remus' mind. "It won't be hard."

"I've no bloody idea what to say." Her voice holds an air of uncertainty and helplessness Remus has never before seen in the intrepid young Auror. "And if I'd done it tonight, or if I do tomorrow, he'll know I overheard – or think you told me what he said and pushed me into it."

"He already knows I'm pushing you into it."

_You never spoke a truer word, Padfoot._

Sirius continues, "I've an idea he'll be too happy about you asking him out to really care about what motivated you to do it."

_Ah, the fleeting wisdom of Sirius Black._ Motivation does matter. Remus would just as soon not be involved with Tonks if she is being pushed into something she is not really sure she wants, because her cousin has talked her into feeling more than she truly does, or simply because she sees no other options…

"I don't know if I can do it," Tonks says, sounding very young. "I'm a big chicken."

"You're an _Auror_," Sirius says, a frustrated edge creeping in. 

Tonks matches him in crossness. "They don't teach you in Auror training how to ask blokes out."

"They should." 

Chair legs screech on the floor as one of them stands. Remus slips around the corner so as not to be seen, but is still close enough to hear Kreacher's pathetic whining.

"At last the blood-traitor and the Mudblood goes away and gives Kreacher his peace."

"KREACHER! I SAID SHUT UP!"

"Sirius!" Tonks hisses. "Remus is trying to _sleep_!"

"They cares about the filthy werewolf, but not the faithful house-elf."

"Look, Tonks," Sirius says tolerantly, "if you want to go out with Remus, you're going to have to do the asking. He's a bigger chicken than you are."

Remus has heard enough now and silently creeps back upstairs to his room. His throat is parched now, but water from the bathroom will do. He is too wide awake even for cocoa or milk to soothe him to sleep. He is not angry with Sirius, because Sirius speaks truly. He _is_ a chicken. 

A chicken with a lion's share of conscience. Even if Tonks does get up the courage to ask him for a date, he cannot say yes. She is inexperienced, and it would be unfair to spoil dating for her by testing something doomed to fail anyway, when there are more suitable blokes out there for her.

Blokes her age, who can afford to take her to lovely places and shower her with flowers and jewellery and all the bright, colourful things she deserves.

Blokes who do not already have dates lined up every month for the rest of their lives. 


	6. Part Six: Whisky Business

_A long-overdue final chapter written for the August 2007 **RTChallenge** and dedicated to **Gilpin25**, who requested I write this when she stumped me in a "Stump the Writer" meme. Thanks for making me write it, and for your ideas. I hope you like it, m'dear. And as always, thanks to **Godricgal **for the beta work._

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**Whisky Business**

"MOONY!"

Sirius bangs the larder door shut in disgust.

"WHY IS ALL THE FIREWHISKY GONE?"

He _can't_ have drunk it all already. Only a week's gone by since he sent Remus out to stock up on booze, and while he may drop hints now and then that Sirius shouldn't drink so much, Moony never fails to deliver what he's given the Galleons to buy. So Sirius makes his second circuit in fifteen minutes around the dank basement kitchen, which looks rather like the Tutshill Tornados' mascot swept through.

He half-heartedly checks the drinks cabinet again, even though he knows all that's inside are a couple of cockroaches and a few bottles of some Elf-made wine which tastes like shit and really ought to be thrown out or maybe given to that sodding House-elf to shut him up. Kreacher's been skulking about like Snivellus Sodding Snape for the past quarter-hour since Sirius first thrust a hand into his cupboard and yanked him out by a spindly arm so he could clear out the stash of heirlooms and see if the little wankerhadn't nicked the booze.

Sirius shouldn't be surprised when he finds Kreacher's cupboard doesn't contain anything that wasn't there fifteen minutes earlier, just as no Firewhisky has miraculously appeared elsewhere in the kitchen. Still he swears as he gets off the grimy floor where knelt to through the Elf's filthy den. Noticing a mildewed photograph in a tarnished silver serpentine frame which Kreacher saved from the rubbish bin, Sirius stomps on it.

_Not_ a brilliant idea when barefoot.

"Merlin, damn it!" He grabs the back of a chair for support as he picks his sliced foot up off the floor as much because it hurts like bloody buggering hell as he's afraid of catching something.

Dark, thick blood drips from his sole onto the photograph of his mum, and Sirius thinks how apt that is as he reaches for his wand, which is supposed to be in the back pocket of his jeans. (Two fingers in the air at Mad-Eye Moody.)

Only his wand's not there.

Or anywhere on his person.

Just like his Firewhisky's not anywhere in the bloody kitchen.

Where the _hell_ is his wand?

"MOOOONYYYYY!"

Where the hell is _Moony_?

Probably in the library, doing his Order homework like a good...Moony. Probably with a Silencing Spell cast over the room so as not to be disturbed by his housemate.

Fat lot of good it does to have someone living with you when he leaves you to entertain yourself.

"Bet he's drinking the damn whisky himself--OW!"

Sirius had taken one hobbling step toward the stairs, but the jaggedly torn skin on his foot stings like the mother of all...Stinging Hexes.

A cackle sounds from under the table, low and wheezing like the rattle of death, and Sirius ducks, holding the chair again as he kicks his injured foot at Kreacher's face.

"Look, Kreacher! Filthy blood traitor's blood all over Mistress' kitchen!"

He just glimpses Kreacher's large, lamp-like eyes rounding in horror; the House-elf's screech is cut off by a _CRACK_, and the kitchen vanishes as Sirius materializes in the library.

The _darkened_ library.

Since Moony's always going on about proper light to read by because if he's got to be completely grey before he's forty he's sure as hell going to do all he can to keep from needing glasses as well, Sirius doesn't call out to him, but simply Apparates up to the next floor, where the bedrooms are.

As he knocks on Moony's door, Sirius isn't sure why he didn't Apparate directly inside in his state of semi-emergency, except that it seems a bit discourteous to do that when it's the week leading up to full moon and Moony's probably turned in early. Sirius is sure Remus would sarkily call him sweet for not Apparating in, when he's going to wake him anyway with a bloody foot and a missing wand. It's the thought that counts, though, right?

Hand balled into a fist, Sirius pounds on the door.

"Moony! Moony, wake up!"

He stops knocking, hand still resting against the door. He presses his ear against it, too, waiting for Moony's heavy sigh.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three.

No heavy Moony sigh.

That can't be right.

Sirius knocks again.

"MOONY, I'M BLEEDING TO DEATH RIGHT OUTSIDE YOUR ROOM! NOW'S NOT THE TIME TO ACT LIKE A MAN INSTEAD OF A WOLF AND SUDDENLY TURN INTO A HEAVY SLEEPER!"

He pressed his ear to the door again, and waited.

Still, utter silence from within.

"MOONY, YOU GREAT GIT! WHERE THE HELL ARE--"

Turning as he shouted down the hallway, Sirius sees light beneath the door to Regulus' old room. The room where Tonks sometimes kips. Which used to puzzle him, because who'd stay here when they'd a lovely flat to go home to? Though it hadn't take long for a genius like him to figure out that Tonks likes to stay in the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black because she's head-over-heels in love with Moony -- even though she tries to pass it off as i"fancying him quite a lot."

She hasn't been here in a week, Tonks. Not since she chatted to Sirius over Firewhisky about How Do You Solve A Problem Like Moony.

Who, as Sirius shuffles down the hallway, one hand on the mouldy papered wall for balance, his gimp foot leaving a trail across the rug, speak of the devil, is _in there with her_. That low, muffled tone from behind the door marked _Regulus Arcturus Black, Bastard First Class_, is distinctly indistinctly the devil's own voice.

Forgetting all about feet and Firewhisky, Sirius presses himself against the door just in time to hear Tonks ask: "So what are we going to do now?"

Sirius bites his lip to contain a shout of praise for her. Why, just the other night when he told her she'll have to ask Moony out if she wants him, and she came back talking about being a great Hufflepuff chicken, he gave up hope that pair would ever resolve their sexual tension. Yet here she is, obviously coming clean about her feelings, and getting the truth out of him as well. Miraculous! A feat of Marauder proportions!

(When did she turn up, anyway? Must have been while he was destroying the kitchen and making too big a racket to hear her. She could've stuck her head in and said, _Wotcher, Coz, I'm just on my up to ask Remus out, if you'd care to eavesdrop_.)

He imagines her falling over the Troll-foot umbrella stand and Remus rushing out of the library to help her up. She'll have told him she was working in the neighbourhood and is going to stay the night here cos she's so tired she's afraid of Splinching, and she wonders, can he help her put fresh sheets on the bed because there might be Doxies in the linen cupboard and he's so much better at dispatching them than she? Which just goes to prove she's really got a bit of his blood after all, as that's exactly the sort of tactic _he'd _employ. Get a man talking about relationships while messing about with a bed. _Brilliant_.

Not that Sirius would talk about relationships with a man.

But if he were a women, by Merlin he'd get Moony out of his damned head and thinking with his--

"I don't know," comes Moony's voice.

Damn. So much for elevating the function of certain bits instead of creating great cock-ups. If only Remus would use _that_, instead of his brain that's so used to studying, he'd know exactly what he and Tonks were going to do now. _Do_, _Moony_, _not__think!_ Can Remus really have forgotten that old motto? Merlin knew Padfoot and Prongs shouted it at him a million times...

"There're are only two choices," Tonks says, a sigh in her voice, which Sirius realises he should have recognised when she spoke the first time.

She's not taking the lead...She might have initiated, but now she's leaving it up to Moony.

_Don't leave things up to Moony! _was Padfoot's and Prongs' other motto.

"Got to pick one or the other," she says. "We just can't keep going as we have been."

"I know," says Remus, matching her for wistfulness, though Sirius knows that whisper of resignation that means Moony's planning on being noble.

As if there's anything noble about letting a lovely girl down...

"At least not if you want to have a single unbroken dish in this house, and your umbrella not dumped out of the stand cos I keep falling over it, and me to have a prayer of being stealthy when we're on missions together."

A creak -- like bloody sodding bedsprings -- sounds, which jars Sirius for a moment, though he reckons that's not an out of place sound when you're putting sheets on a bed. Not that he'd know anything about that.

Or maybe Tonks is flopping down on the bed. He hopes so. If she curls up and looks sad and pretty with her pink hair spilling across the pillow, Remus won't be able to resist sitting down beside her, touching her, comforting her...In fact, maybe that's the thing that caused the bed springs to creak...

"You're blaming _me _for the broken plate at the Dursleys?" Remus asks.

That can't have been a chuckle in his voice; whenever he's deflecting an undesirable topic with humour, he's always completely dry.

"That was when I realised you fancied me," says Tonks.

"How?"

At Remus' incredulity, Sirius perks up a little. Hope! Moony likes to be liked. If Tonks strokes his ego enough, he'll take her out.

Whether Tonks does that or not, though, is anyone's guess. Either her voice has dropped to a whisper, or she's not said a damn thing.

The next thing Sirius hears is Remus saying, "I'm sorry."

_Sorry? _What the hell _for_? Where are those bloody Extendable Ears when you need them? And talking of bloody, there's a puddle under his foot now, seeping up between his toes. If he dies before Moony quits pussy-footing around about Tonks, for better or for worse...

Another groan of bedsprings is followed by another sigh from Tonks. "What do you _want _to do, Remus?"

Rule Number One in Talking Moony Into Things: Never ask him what he wants, because he's a closet Buddhist and tries not to want because wanting leads to suffering.

"I think you know what I want," says Remus.

"I know what I _hope _you want."

During the ensuing silence, Sirius nearly pulls out his hair while wondering why the hell these people had to have so many bloody _pauses _in their conversations?

"How could it work?" Remus asks.

After Sirius gets over the timing of the question, which makes him wonder if Remus doesn't know he's eavesdropping and is using Legilimency on him from behind that door, he nearly beats his head against it. Why does Remus _always _expect things not to work?

Sirius pleads for Tonks to prove she's his cousin by posing the question to Remus. He hears her voice, faintly, but can't make out her words.

It's all he can do not to shout, _Go on, Moony! Be the Gryffindor who, through a lot of trial and error, made the Marauder's Map. Risk something not working because it just might. How can that be a bad thing?_

"You could be hurt," says Remus, almost in answer to Sirius' unvoiced questions. "I know my track record."

"I know my track record, too," Tonks argues, "and you're at greater risk than I am of being hurt."

"I thought you said me going out with you would put an end to that."

Sirius snorts. It's all over. Moony's cracking jokes again. When he stops being serious, there's no getting through to him. He's erecting that wall, and the only way over it is to take him by the robes and shake him--"

"I'm just not sure I'm good enough for you," he says.

Okay. So maybe he's not _quite _through. But the lack of self-worth means this is a direr situation than Sirius realised.

"Can't you shut up and let me be the judge of that?" Tonks asks, her voice so small that Sirius almost misses it over the sound of his own breathing.

Oh God, it's _heartbreaking_.

And infuriating.

Remus _has _shut up, but Sirius doesn't imagine he's taking Tonks' judgment into account. As that poor girl's mum is his favourite cousin, by Merlin Sirius is going to make Moony see the light.

"OF COURSE YOU CAN!" he bellows, bursting into the room. "HOW'S IT GOING TO WORK? TONKS IS SIGNING UP TO DO ALL THE BLOODY WORK, SO SHUT UP AND--"

His words die as his eyes register, a bit late, that Tonks -- and Remus -- are lying on the bed, in a tangle of sheets that never quite got put on properly.

Together.

Her arms are wrapped around his neck; one of his hands rests on her waist -- her _bare _waist, as her t-shirt's ridden up -- and the other's woven through her pink hair. Their legs are tangled up, and Moony's shirttail's out and his hair's all untidy and in his eyes, and though they're bright and twinkling, _hers _are even darker than usual, and hazy and..._dear God_...her lips are a bit swollen and red as if...

"You weren't talking about why going out won't work, then?" Sirius asks.

Remus' gaze flicks away to look at Tonks, and they share a very irritating eye-roll that says they know he overheard everything they said to each other.

_Great. _All he needs is _two _of them in the house. It's not really _overhearing_, is it, when he's apparently not heard a thing they really said? He'll attribute his inability to interpret tone of voice through a shut door to loss of blood -- he _is_ feeling a bit light-headed -- and not twelve years of solitary confinement leaving his people-reading skills a bit rusty.

"No," says Remus. "We were talking about how to make it work."

"_Talking_," Sirius repeats.

Since he guessed right about Tonks asking Remus to help with the sheets, it's probably safe to assume Remus found it impossible to think with his brain when he was in a bedroom with a pretty girl, thus avoiding the wrong sort of cock-up...Which Sirius is damn proud of Remus for doing, as this is the sort of thing Sirius has worked his whole life (minus prison time, of course) to get Remus to do.

Still, it makes him feel as lacking in equilibrium as Tonks must all the time, because _wanting _Moony to do something and _expecting _him to do it are not remotely similar things. If he's being honest, Sirius can't say he thought Remus would do anything of the sort now, if ever, not after last week's chats in which Remus confessed how unworthy he feels of the fair Nymphadora. Too old, too poor...too something else, he can't be bothered what. Oh yes, too dangerous. They the all sound the same after a while and they're all equally ridiculous.

Just like this tumbling about in the sheets snogging each senseless is ridiculous.

_If _they ever got together, Sirius's expectations included Remus making a carefully-worded and rehearsed about how little he had to offer and how low Tonks' expectations should be, and that they should take it slowly, casually, avoiding heartbreak, and awkwardness at Order meetings. Then, after the speech, if Tonks still wanted to go out with him, he'd woo her with a picnic or a walks beneath the not-full moon, and he _might _kiss her, chastely, at the doorstep of her flat when he walked her home afterward. Beds wouldn't come into picture for months...What Sirius _expected _was to be able to laugh at the careful courtship and heap brotherly abuse on him at every turn for being so quintessentially _Moony. _

Certainly he never in a million years would have expected to get it all _wrong_.

He, Sirius Black, wrong about _Moony_.

It's as preposterous as Snivellus being hygienic.

"Right," says Sirius. "Well, from where I stand, it seems to be working brilliantly."

Tonks giggles, and Remus smiles at her, his fingers stroking her hipbone. "It does seem to be so far."

Sirius thinks he might be sick with the sweetness...or maybe he's woozy...

"Is there something I can do for you, Padfoot?" Remus asks, sliding his hand out of Tonks' hair, tucking a few strands behind her ear, so he can push up on his elbow to regard Sirius with interest. "Only I heard you shouting to me."

"And you didn't answer?" Sirius wants to shout, but it comes out feebly, and he leans against the doorjamb.

"Well -- you always told me never to interrupt a snog, even for you."

It sounds like something Sirius would say, but he really can't be sure. "Can you make my foot stop bleeding?"

Remus takes out his wand and gives it a neat flick. "_Episky_." A second flick. "_Accio _Sirius' wand."

The pain leaves Sirius' foot as his wand flies into his hand. He Summons the Firewhisky, and soon has a bottle of it in hand as well. Be nice to know where it's been all night, but he doesn't care, not really, so long as he's got it.

Saluting Remus with the bottle, he says, "Cheers -- to whisky, and being risky," then turns to go.

Before he shuts the door, though, he pokes his wand through the crack and says, "_Ekissky._"

He wishes them well -- really he does. If anyone deserves a chance at happiness, it's Remus, and Tonks might be just the girl to help him find it.

But Sirius Disapparates to avoid the sound of their mingling laughter.

_**A/N: I'd love to know what you thought of this final installment. As incentive to review, I promise all who do a snog on a squeaky bed with Remus, or a nightcap with Sirius, who would be only too happy for the company. ;)**_


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